


Drunk on You

by kilgraves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Fingering, First Time, I've never written knotting before so be kind ah, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilgraves/pseuds/kilgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek get drunk and end up fucking for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk on You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my little cupcake, [Katie](http://haleashes.tumblr.com), because she asked for drunk Sterek first times and I couldn't possibly say no.  
> Also, I can be found [here](http://scisaaclaheys.tumblr.com) on Tumblr (◕ω◕✿)

"You know what’s weird?" Stiles slurs, voice thick and heavy, "I’m not even drunk." 

Derek lets out a snort, grabbing the nearly empty bottle of whiskey from the teenager and mumbling, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you are.” 

Stiles is spread out on his back on the floor of the loft, while Derek sits on the sofa above him. They’re been drinking on and off for a few hours now, just the two of them, since the rest of the pack are all in different places for the night. 

"Well then, I guess what you say goes, Mr. I’m-the-Alpha-Motherfucker-I-Run-Beacon-Hills-Even-Though-I’ve-Never-Actually-Won-a-Fight." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Stiles glances up at Derek apologetically, "Was that mean of me?" 

"Nah," Derek shakes his head, downing the rest of the Jack Daniels in one gulp, "You’re just being honest - nothing wrong with that." 

Stiles squints at him, clicking his tongue, “I can’t tell if you’re drunk or not.” 

"I am, but I have a higher alcohol tolerance than you do." 

"Is that a werewolf thing or just a grown-up thing?" Stiles asks, reaching up to scratch at his jaw. 

Derek smirks, “Both.”

There’s a silence after that, where Stiles yawns and stretches his arms up over his head, giving Derek a pretty decent look at his happy trail - shit, no, Derek’s not looking at a seventeen year-old like _that_ , nope, uh-uh, absolutely not. 

"Hey, you should totally come down here," Stiles murmurs, gesturing to the empty spaces around him slowly, drunkenly, "Your floor is surprisingly comfortable, dude. I’ve slept on enough floors in my lifetime to know when a floor is comfortable and _fuck_ _,_ this one is nice. I’m thinking about sleeping here, on your floor, because I don’t think I’ll be able to get home like this. But you should definitely come down here, because even though you might think that sofa is comfortable, you haven’t even experienced this floor yet, and-,”

"Stiles," Derek interrupts, "Shut _up_. I’ll come down there, alright?"

Stiles’ eyebrows furrow, and he teases, “Okay, jeez, you don’t have to _beg_.” 

Derek gets up off the sofa, stepping over Stiles carefully to sink down onto the floor beside him. He isn’t sure why Stiles thinks this floor is so great, but it’s definitely not unpleasant lying next to him, so Derek swallows his pride and uses his arm as a pillow. 

"Hey, I have an idea," Stiles chirps, eyes lighting up even through their drunken haze, "A good one, not a shitty one, because I’ve been known to have-,"

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek cuts him off mid-babble this time, “Just tell me the idea.” 

The teenager’s mouth - that Derek definitely doesn’t look at as often as he can - curls into a smile, and he whispers, “Let’s play fuck, marry, kill.” 

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Do I even _want_ to know what that is?”

"Yes, oh my god, dude, it’s like the best game ever. It’s impossible to be bored when you play it. But first," he indicates the empty bottle of whiskey, "We need more alcohol." 

About ten minutes later, Derek’s lying next to Stiles again, a new bottle of Jack in-between them, and Stiles is explaining the game: “So, I give you three people’s names, and you have to choose who you’d fuck, marry and kill. And you _have_ to choose - no wimping out, sour wolf.” 

Derek blinks, takes a quick swig from the bottle, and nods, “Fine, you go first.”

Stiles puts his hands together like a criminal mastermind in a movie and licks his lips, before grinning, “Okay, I’ve got one: Deucalion, Kali and Ethan.” 

"We’re doing real people?" Derek asks, trying hard to stop his cheeks from flushing red as he glances over to Stiles.

"Of course - more fun that way. Now choose." 

Derek rolls his eyes and huffs a breath, while Stiles takes a significant drink from the shared bottle. It takes him a good minute or two before he finally replies, “Fuck Kali, marry Ethan and kill Deucalion.”

"Excellent selection for a first timer," Stiles laughs, letting out a short burp, "Your turn." 

Derek spends at least five minutes thinking of his three people for Stiles, mainly because he wants it to be hard. When he decides, he murmurs, “Allison, Lydia and Erica.” 

Stiles groans, “Aw, come on, man, that’s so hard!”

"Isn’t that kind of the point?" Derek shrugs, nudging Stiles with his elbow and murmuring, "Choose, Stilinski."

It takes Stiles a decent amount of time to come up with an answer, and Derek can hear him saying things under his breath, talking himself through the decision like it’s the most important one he’ll ever make. 

When he next speaks, his face is uncertain, “Fuck Erica, marry Lydia, kill Allison,” he huffs when he says Allison’s name, and then adds, “But only because I’m pretty sure I’d never have a chance with her in a million years, what with the whole weird, confusing, awkward love triangle thing she’s got with Scott and Isaac.”

After that, they go back and forth a few more times, trying to stump the other as much as possible. Stiles makes Derek choose between Deucalion, Peter and Kate at one point and Derek’s pretty sure having to choose between those three will leave permanent psychological damage on him. Of course, Derek gets him back, tossing Isaac, Boyd and Aiden into the mix for him. Maybe it’s the alcohol’s fault or maybe it’s just Stiles being… Stiles - but the kid takes a good ten minutes debating his options before voicing his answer. 

"What?" He asks, when Derek shoots him one of his patented alpha smirks, "All I can think about when I look at Isaac is the fact that he and my best friend have fucked - many times, probably-," 

Derek shakes his head, setting the bottle down, “It’s not that. You, uh… You’re really cute when you’re drunk.” 

Stiles laughs, a real, genuine laugh where his mouth is wide and his body shakes, “Do you realize how weird that sounds? You make it seem like you roofie’d my drink and you’re waiting for me to pass out so you can _have your way with me_.” _  
_

On the last five words, he waggles his eyebrows and Derek backtracks, “No, I just meant that you - you get even more fidgety and your face gets all flushed and your hair’s all messy-,”

"Still sounds like you’re aiming to fuck me, big guy," he replies, a cocky grin on his lips now, "And if I’m being honest, I doubt I’d stop you if you _did_ try something.”

It’s automatic; Derek’s entire body tenses, his mind propelled into overtime - actually way past overtime, more like hyper drive - and Stiles is watching him through hazy, heavy-lidded eyes, and Derek didn’t fully realize how hard he was until now and suddenly _all_ he wants to do is touch, taste, fuck, claim, _mate_.

"Stiles," he breathes, even as the boy moves closer, overwhelming Derek with his scent, _fuck_ , “You’re drunk - you don’t know what you’re saying.”

Stiles scoffs, leaning in to nose at Derek’s neck, grazing his teeth against his collarbone and sending shivers down the alpha’s spine, “Of course I do, of _course_ I do.”

And then he’s tugging at the hem of Derek’s shirt with shaky fingers, pulling it up, and Derek lifts his arms, lets Stiles take it off because he can’t, he _can’t_ stop himself from responding to Stiles’ touch, hissing when he flicks his tongue against Derek’s nipple. They start to move, shedding clothes and crashing their lips together. It’s messy - all teeth and tongue and fingers scrabbling at flesh - but it’s also kind of perfect. Stiles’ body is warm, _so_ warm against Derek’s as he rolls on top of him, taking control in a way that’s so unlike him - it only makes Derek harder.

"Wanna suck you off," Stiles hisses, voice slurred as he presses wet kisses down Derek’s torso, "Fuck, can I? Please?"

Derek can only nod vigorously, his throat feels blocked. Stiles makes quick work of un-zipping his jeans, pushing them down his legs until Derek kicks them off and then Stiles is sucking on the skin of his inner thigh, hungrily. Derek’s cock is straining against his briefs and when Stiles notices, he laughs, “Who knew a pasty, scrawny seventeen year-old would get you so hard?”

"Shut up," Derek growls, yanking Stiles up to kiss him, the sting of alcohol still prevalent in their mouths. His hands roam over the boy’s shoulder blades, hips grinding against Stiles’.

But then Stiles pulls away, moving to peel Derek’s underwear off and exposing his - almost embarrassingly - hard cock to the teenager’s dark eyes.

“ _God_ , Derek,” Stiles murmurs, reaching out a hand to grip him at the base of his cock, taking immense pleasure in how he’s got Derek going. Before the werewolf can say or do anything in response, Stiles leans in and takes him in his mouth, all at once. Derek lets out a sharp gasp, and he can _feel_ Stiles grinning - the little shit. It’s sloppy, to say the least; Stiles’ movements are labored and when he starts to bob his head up and down, there’s no real rhythm to it at all. He just takes in as much of Derek as he can, eager and quick, pausing to suck on the head every couple of seconds. It’s evident that Stiles is inexperienced with blowjobs, but fuck if Derek cares - the kid has one helluva mouth and it’s going to be the death of him.

"Stiles," he hisses, fingers knotted in Stiles’ hair as he just keeps moving, keeps sucking, cheeks hollowing out as he works him, " _Stiles_ , I’m gonna - if you don’t stop-,”

But Stiles doesn’t stop, and when he moves to swirl his tongue around the head of Derek’s cock again, he breathes, “Do it, I want you to come down my throat.”

Derek nearly fucking _keens_ at that, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning when that warm, wet heat envelops him again. If he were sober, he thinks he’d be a lot less embarrassing, but he knows it’s not true because drunk or not, Stiles drives him crazy. It only takes a few more bobs of his head, a few more rolls of his tongue, and Derek’s hips stutter, fingers digging into Stiles’ hair as he comes. It’s too much, _way_ too much, because Stiles just takes it, swallows it down with this satisfied smirk on his lips. Derek’s panting when he pulls the boy up to kiss him, and he can _taste_ himself in Stiles’ mouth. He rolls them over so he’s on top and starts sucking bruises into Stiles’ milky skin, listening to the little gasps he lets out each time Derek’s mouth finds a new spot.

"Want you to fuck me," Stiles whispers as Derek pulls his underwear off and crashes their lips together again, " _Please,_ fuck me.”

Derek murmurs against his jaw, “Aren’t you still-?”

"A virgin?" Stiles finishes for him, breathlessly, "Yeah, I am."

"Are you sure you want it to be me?"

Stiles laughs, “Dude, have you _seen_ yourself? You’re basically a dream fuck.”

Derek says nothing, merely moves further down to pepper open mouth kisses down Stiles’ torso, making him shiver. When he pushes his legs apart, he runs a hand up Stiles’ thigh and asks, “Have you ever…?”

"Fingered myself open thinking about you?" Stiles murmurs, a devilish grin on his stupid face now, " _Yes_.”

Derek doesn’t even know what to say in response to that, the image of Stiles lying in bed with a hand on his cock and two fingers inside of himself is too overwhelming. He murmurs something to Stiles about getting lube, but the human tells him he already has a few packets in the back pocket of his jeans. Rather than question it, Derek just fishes through the pockets of Stiles’ jeans until he pulls one out. He’s quick to squirt some onto his index finger and he hears Stiles take a breath right before Derek presses into him. Stiles nearly pitches off the floor, nails scrabbling at the wood as Derek pushes further, until his finger is buried in tight warmth.

"So tight," Derek breathes, pulling his finger back and then pushing it in again, making Stiles sigh.

"Been a while since I…" Stiles flushes pink and then whispers, "Add another."

Derek nods, spreading more lube onto his fingers and pressing two into him, starting up a rhythm that’s got Stiles panting and fucking down onto his fingers in seconds. Derek leans in to suck at the skin of his thigh as he works him, and Stiles isn’t sure whether this is real or if he’s having a wet dream (of which Derek’s usually the star). When the werewolf crooks his fingers, Stiles yelps and jerks his hips, moaning loudly. He opens his eyes to watch Derek, who’s got a concentrated look on his face, like he’s completely determined to do this right, like making Stiles feel good is the most important thing to him.

Stiles reaches up to stroke himself, but Derek bats his hand away, murmuring, “Not yet.” When Stiles lets out a whine, Derek adds, “Gonna take care of you.”

The human sighs because he believes him - he _trusts_ him, which probably comes as a shock to both of them. Derek’s got three fingers moving in and out of him now, stretching him open and eliciting several groans from Stiles. It’s _good_ , and he feels hot all over, desperate and greedy.

"Need your cock," he moans, breath coming in short gasps of air, "Need to come, I can’t - I _can’t_ -,“

"You’re such a brat," Derek laughs, even as he pulls his fingers out and moves to grab the lube again, "So cock hungry, even though you’ve never been fucked before."

Stiles shivers, propping himself up on his elbows to watch Derek slick up his length. He isn’t sure if it’s a case of alcohol brain or not, but all he wants right now is Derek. He doesn’t care that it’ll hurt, he doesn’t care what’ll happen once they’re both sober - he just wants him to make him scream.

Derek grips Stiles’ hips with both hands, pushing himself into the boys’ tight heat slowly. Stiles mewls because he’s so full, so _full_ , and it hurts a lot more than he ever thought it would. Derek stops when he’s fully sheathed inside Stiles, giving him time to breathe and adjust. He realizes Stiles is biting his lip, holding back tears, and feels his heart twist at the sight. He waits for Stiles to shake his head, to snap out of this momentary lapse of sanity and tell Derek to stop - but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches to cup the back of Derek’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. When the alpha breaks away to look him in the eyes, Stiles whispers, “Move.”

Derek shoots him a nervous look, because he doesn’t want to hurt him, but Stiles just nods, a determined spark in his eyes, and Derek gives in, pulling his hips back before thrusting in again. At first, Stiles winces - he thinks the werewolf doesn’t notice - but on the third slow thrust, he lets out a soft moan, “ _Derek_.”

Once he knows Stiles is okay, it all becomes so much easier. He develops a rhythm, slams into him over and over, the sounds of skin on skin and Stiles’ shallow breathing filling the room. Derek moves to nip at the boys’ collarbone and Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper - if that’s possible. Derek grins when he feels Stiles’ nails digging into his shoulder blades. 

It’s strange, but Stiles isn’t the least bit vocal during sex, at least not in the way Derek expected. In any other situation, it’s nearly impossible to get him to _stop_ talking and Derek would be lying if he said he didn’t like the way Stiles tends to babble. However, now, with Derek’s cock dragging in and out of him, he’s barely saying a word - save for the occasional “ _harder”_ or “fuck, right _there_.” 

"What happened to that demanding boy from earlier?" Derek hisses, biting Stiles’ earlobe as he pounds into him.

Stiles laughs shakily, sucking in a breath, “Trust me, big guy: your dick is good enough to render anyone speechless.” 

After that, it’s a mess of hands and lips and limbs and they’re both moving and gasping and it’s so, so, so good. Stiles’ breath catches when Derek hits that _one_ spot inside of him, making him squirm and cling to the werewolf’s shoulders. Derek’s sucking bruises into his neck, marking him up because it’s instinctive and he loves the way Stiles moans whenever his teeth brush against his skin. 

“ _God_ , Derek,” he pants, fingers knotting in Derek’s hair, eyes squeezed shut as he just takes everything Derek has to give him, “Can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten myself off thinking about this, your cock in my ass, fucking me open - _shit_ , I-I think I’m gonna - _oh_ -!” 

Stiles comes with a whimper, his body seizing up as white ropes of come paint his and Derek’s stomachs. He’s trembling, gasping out little praises and sweet nothings that make Derek blush even as he keeps fucking into the tight heat beneath him. 

They’re back to square one now, and Stiles won’t stop talking, won’t stop whispering, “Come on, come _on_ , Derek, just, oh, fuck, come _on_ -,” 

And then Derek’s coming, biting Stiles’ shoulder, and the base of his dick starts to swell, and oh shit, he may have forgotten to mention this to Stiles-

“ _Ow!_ ” Stiles yelps, confirming his previous beliefs, “Oh my god, dude, what the hell _is_ that?”

Derek’s letting out breathy moans, his face buried in the crook of Stiles’ neck and he can tell that the boy isn’t angry, just confused.

"It’s called a knot," he gasps, feeling like an asshole but unable to stop it now that it’s already started, "It’s a werewolf thing - supposed to keep my come inside you for as long as possible."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Stiles groans, more out of astonishment than pain - although it does hurt. He thinks he should probably find it weird or gross or something, but _fuck_ , instead he finds it unbelievably hot. He can feel warmth spreading through him and realizes that it’s Derek, it’s Derek’s _come_ , and he lets out a whine, “Oh my god.” 

"I’m sorry," Derek whispers shakily, running his fingers through Stiles’ sweat-slicked hair. His voice sounds raw and he’s still coming, "I should have told you before we-,"

"No," Stiles shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss, and Derek groans into his mouth, "It’s good, it’s so good, don’t be sorry, oh my _god_.” 

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek whimpers, and Stiles thinks it’s the most vulnerable he’s ever heard him sound, and Stiles is moaning, too, overwhelmed by Derek’s body on top of him and his come inside of him.

Derek shudders and then he goes boneless, sated and out of breath, and Stiles just lets him put all of his weight on him, holding him close and burying his nose into his neck. 

"It’ll last for a while," the alpha breathes, and Stiles nods, just nods, because he doesn’t object to that in the slightest. He likes Derek this way - likes him any way, really - and he feels so full, it’s amazing. 

A while ends up being less like a while and more like almost half an hour, but Stiles doesn’t complain. Derek keeps murmuring praises against his collarbone, kissing him, carding his fingers through Stiles’ hair. When Derek finally does pull out, Stiles whines at the loss and it makes the werewolf chuckle. He’s tired and there’s come dripping out of his ass and a lot has happened in one night. When Derek glances at him, he takes notice of how wrecked Stiles looks, hair messy and cheeks flushed, rug burns on his back from the fact that they fucked on the floor.

"Sex with a werewolf sure is glamorous," Stiles murmurs, reaching up to rub at his eyes and blushing.

Derek just smiles, "You look hot. And you did so well - it's like you were made for this."

At that comment, Stiles' lips curl into this dopey grin and he says, "I guess that means we'll have to do it more often then."

Derek is silent for a moment, as Stiles reaches to trace at the curves of his abs, and then he nods, "I guess we will."

"But maybe sober next time - I can already feel my fucking hangover coming on and I think it's been made worse by the fact that I just got fucked in the ass by an alpha werewolf."

Derek says nothing, merely rolls his eyes and pulls the boy in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> You should give me feedback because it's kind of my favorite thing in the world :)))))


End file.
